Out of Hand
by jazzith
Summary: Humour/parody. not crack -quite- has been described as 'hilarious' 'amazing' and 'magical' -seriously read the reviews- . The first chapter's the best by far but I'm trying to improve the rest. enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

"Riff, do you feel okay?" Riff and Cain were walking alongside each other in a fairly busy London street. They hadn't talked for some moments when Cain felt a need to break the silence. He felt extremely out of place, I mean, there were _people! _And the sun was out! And no-one was even trying to kill him! It was so alien.

"I feel fine my lord. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just… I feel this whole _curse _thing has gotten slightly out of hand."

"What makes you think that sir?" Replied the taller man looking towards his master, who was slightly behind him, as he walked, somehow still managing to dodge the crowded street. Cain noticed this, he suspected magic.

"Watch this." And with that Cain paused and turned towards a young lady walking down the street. She had dark hair and seemed to be more skirt than person; either that or she had very fat legs. Aside from physical appearance she had a sort of mysterious aura, then again it seemed almost every young woman had a mysterious aura these days. Cain made a mental note to find out where they sold them so he could get one for Mary.

"Excuse me miss!" Cain called after the mysterious dark haired woman.

Said woman turned round and gave a start "Why sir, are you addressing me?" she said pointing at herself as if what she had just said didn't give enough of a clue as to who she was talking about.

"Yes," Cain replied stepping towards her "I just wanted to say how marvellous your enormous skirt is." As he said this he touched her hand.

She got about halfway through saying 'The shopkeeper told me if was one of the largest skirts in England,' before a psychotic axe murderer brutally and tragically murdered her. It was with an axe you know.

"See Riff, I Only so much as touched her hand and she was tragically and brutally murdered with an axe." Cain had now let go of the corpses hand and was looking back at Riff.

"But sir that doesn't prove anything, it appeared to me that the man tripped on her skirt and accidentally hit her in the back with an axe. I mean, he probably only kept hitting her to make sure she wasn't paralysed in later life, seems a jolly kind thing to do if you ask me." Riff smiled.

"I suppose, Riff you can always reassure me. You're so great, you can make tea and stuff, hell I can't even tie shoelaces. You know-"

Riff opened his mouth to interject but found that since he was almost silent most the time and had said two rather long sentences a minute ago his voice box had shrivelled up and stopped working.

"You just looked like you were about to interject something Riff, I do hope your voice box hasn't shrivelled up due to sudden use or anything like that. That would be just terrible."

--

Later on Cain was at home. He was listening to the maids talking, not on purpose of course because that would be very bad. It's just; he had a habit of climbing on the linen drawer and curling up on one of the shelves. Doing this made him feel like a tortoise, he didn't know what a tortoise was but he liked feeling like one. Hearing the maids' gossip was simply a coincidental and unintended side effect on his part.

Cain had just put a sheet on his head and was starting to boogie down without any music what he accidentally overheard someone talking about him.

"Well I heard that the master and that butler of his were doing a bit of bish-bosh round the bedroom if you know what I mean." Came one voice.

"Oh really!" replied the other. "I know they's close as turnips but I didn't think he was that way inclined the old butler. To be honest he doesn't seem any way inclined ee's frigid as an owl is he."

"Is it that way?" came the first voice. "Well, I know he completely curtained some French bird but not to ave any anky-panky's a bit much, and It's like you said, they's as close as turnips, It'd take some trouserin' ter rip them apart."

Cain was thoroughly confused, something about cold owls and turnips. He made a mental note to get Riff to check if the birds had curtains. He also wanted to know where they were from, their accents were not normal.

The maids had passed now so he proceeded to remove the sheet from his head and clamber out from the cupboard. He momentarily missed the sensation of feeling like a tortoise but decided there were more pressing matters at hand. As he left he brushed past another maid who was promptly, brutally and tragically shot to death when she turned the next corner.

--

Cain found Riff rather quickly walking down the hall.

"Riff! Hi Riff I found you, were you looking for me? I bet you were, that's way you're out here. You look flustered, are you ill, I bet it's because you were worried about me, you were worried weren't you?"

Riff decided to roll with it and nodded his head. The truth was that he had been looking through his secret collection of magazines and was worried Cain might fire him if he found out. Seriously, those women were showing their _ankles!_

"You always say you can find me, I think you need to try harder, I was waiting for ages! That reminds me Riff, are the birds properly curtained?"

_He's been in the linen cupboard again hasn't he?_

They had been walking towards Cain's room since they bumped into each other and they now entered it through the wooden door which was actually surprisingly light, Cain supposed the makers of this manor house must have been stingy.

"The maids have been talking about us again Riff, something about turnips." Cain paused for a moment as if to think. "Well… screw the maids. Actually, do screw the maids, that would get them off our backs, Riff write that down."

Cain sat down in a rather comfortable looking chair. "You know, I bet in one hundred or so years people will completely underestimate what a predicament we would be in if we were to be found having a romantic relationship. I mean, we would get hung. Wouldn't it be romantic, I would confess my undying love and we would untrouser and whatnot then we would announce our love to the world and die together, or you could make a tragic rescue, that would be cool-"

This monologue was starting to make Riff feel uncomfortable especially as he noticed he never consented to any of it. To prevent any more discomfort he whisked out the emergency tea he kept in Cain's room. Cain drank some and then promptly fell asleep. Riff thanked the sleeping pill gods.

Once Cain had passed out Riff asked a maid to lay him on his bed and put his covers over him. His voice box had actually healed about half an hour previously; he just couldn't be bothered to deal with Cain.

That night the maid who saw to Cain was tragically and brutally killed to death with a light sabre.

The end!

--

Sugar is fun. I don't know what any of this is about; seriously, I think someone slipped me drugs.

Also I love the two maids, I was looking round my room to think of works for them to use. I have no idea where their accents are from, they were originally meant to be cockney but that kind of flew out of the window.


	2. Chapter 2

Well here we are, a second chapter! I wasn't sure if I was going to do another one but I have been forced to. This chapter will contain Jizabel and Crehador by order of Emma and since self-determination is for losers and all the cool kids are digging the peer-pressure thing that's what I'll do.

--

It was evening when Jizabel walked out of a shop. He had been standing in said shop for the past twenty or so minutes reading the more interesting newspaper articles before putting it back down and leaving without paying for it. He truly was an evil man.

As he walked down the road he mulled over the news, it seemed to him that people really had rather a bad habit of dying, not in particularly classy ways either. To him 'tragically and brutally murdered to death with an axe,' is not evidence of a very classy murderer. In his opinion, if you were going to be deranged you may as well do it in style.

However, the thought of all that blood was having…adverse effects on his body. The newspaper said her _eyes _had bulged when she was hit. Jizabel licked his lips and then suddenly realised he was acting very creepily.

He decided to leave all thoughts of eyes in the back of is mind until he got home to his room with his jars of eyes and his pictures of eyes and his small scale models of eyes where he could whip his one eyed man thing and… well, you get the picture.

For now he contented himself with walking down the long dark road and loitering under lampposts to make his hair shiny. He carried on doing this until he heard a voice from behind him.

"Hey girlie, you looking for some fun?"

Jizabel took a second out of his hectic schedule of being a complete weirdo to be offended. Just because he was looking at the way his long, fair hair shone in the light he was a girl. Then he realised that standing under a lamppost in the middle of London at midnight probably _did _make him look a bit like prostitute. He turned round to face the man who had talked to him.

"Sir, are you addressing me?" He did not feel the need to point to himself to get his point across as there was no-one else there so instead he let his hand reach towards his pocket and wondered if someone calling him a girl was a scalpelling offence.

"Holy crap you're male!" The other man exclaimed with a look of surprise on his face.

Jizabel noticed that the other man appeared to have lost his shirt somewhere which was a rather amazing feat considering he was still wearing his cloak. It seemed that two women had noticed his shirtlessness and were attempting to keep him warm by following him round and rubbing his chest. He wondered for a brief moment how they were staying warm as they seemed to be clad in nothing but scanties, then he realised he didn't care.

"Sorry," smirked the man. "I thought you were a woman. I'm Dominic Crehador." The man then pulled two business cards out of his pocket and handed them to Jizabel. One said 'Dominic Crehador – Medium' on it in big letters and below that 'I'm not a crook; I'm really magic I swear!' The second simply said 'Dominic Crehador, Freelance Pimp.'

'Both of them are valid so feel free to use my services." He smirked then continued strutting down the road clicking his fingers to signal that the scantily-clad girls should continue keeping him warm.

This whole experience had left Jizabel in rather a bad mood so he decided to head for home.

He had almost made it to his abode when fate let him to bump into his _darling _half-brother. Having meddled enough, Fate grew wing and flew off to point Jack the ripper in the direction of the last girl Cain looked at for more than five seconds.

"Oooh! Hi Jizabel! Hi! Over here!" Cain started jumping up and down and waving like a madman. As if him, standing under a lamp on a deserted street wasn't noticeable enough.

"Hello Cain," his voice was full of spite and evil and other nasty things like spiders.

"Hi brother," Jizabel flinched at this comment. "You're just the person we needed. We were about to go to daddy's to see if you were there but now we don't have to because you're here." Cain smiled and looked up through his big, green eyes.

'No! Must not think about eyes!' Jizabel reminded to himself. "What is your problem?" He replied being sure to keep his voice colder than a very cold thing.

"Well, Riff had to give the help a speech because we had a visitor and then the maid's kept talking and he had to figure out what they were saying and he used his voice too much and now his voice box has shrivelled up and he can't talk." Cain seemed to be able to talk forever without having to breathe.

"And you want me to fix it? What's in it for me?" Jizabel was now leaning very nonchalantly against a wall with a scalpel in one hand. All in all he looked pretty badass.

"Well… I can let you have the body of that girl who got brutally and tragically axe murdered yesterday. I know you like corpses, I've always wondered what you did with them to be honest, you just keep them in your room until they start to rot and smell." Jizabel blushed profusely and quickly replied.

"Yes, yes, okay." He rummaged around in his bag before pulling out a small box of pills. "Tell him to take one of these twice a day after meals."

"Thank you! Oh he will be pleased! Now he can keep telling me bed time stories. I'll have the body sent to you tomorrow. Now, we must dash, we have to make sure all the birds have these on." Cain lifted up a small curtain on a small curtain rail. "Bye!"

And with that he ran off with Riff in tow.

It reminded Jizabel of when they were younger and he has murderous intent. He used to lock his younger brother in a cupboard and he'd come out saying whatever jibberish the help had been talking about. It was quite a good technique for spying on maids.

Finally he made it to his house, well, his father's house. When he entered he saw that the candles had all been blown out, a sure sign that Alexis was home and probably plotting. Not that you could tell if he was plotting from the lights, god no, but he's always plotting so it's a pretty sure bet.

And lo and behold he walked out of the living room.

"Good evening Jizabel. I trust from your countenance that you have had a pleasant dusk?" Alexis was looking over his glasses in a very sinister way, apparently he was too set in his ways to get bifocals.

"I suppose it was pleasurable enough, you were spared a visit from the cursed boy."

His father looked taken aback at this. "Who? Mr Hyde? I'll have you know I rather enjoy his company."

"No father, Cain" Jizabel relied with a sigh."

"Ah, the demon child himself, the one with the cursed blood of endless sinning generations. Born out of incest and raised like a freak…"

Alexis had started getting rather loud and waving his arms around, Jizabel had heard this speech many times before and so decided it was time for him to retire to his room. After all, he had some eye business to sort out…

--

Huzzah! I don't think this chapter was as good as the last one to be honest but it's alright. I would really like to write more of Alexis but I don't think I could keep up with the speech.

Also not much Crehador (sorry Emma) BUT he was topless so I guess that makes up for it.

Sorry for sins against grammar, it's too late to think of such things.

Also my spell check says that 'jibberish' isn't a word, it lies.


	3. Chapter 3

You have no idea how many times and in how many different places I have started writing this, written two paragraphs, then stopped. However, I kind of know what's going to happen in this chapter. Hopefully it'll be better than the last one.

--

For the third time in twenty minutes a cackling Alexis clasped his hands around a - suitably surprised - pigeon. You would have thought that someone coming up behind you cackling after you just watched them take two of your friends would warn you that you might be in trouble. Unfortunately for this particular bird he had been busy trying to figure out if the lady pigeons had been nodding their heads at _him _or just … well, nodding their heads.

Even more unfortunately for the pigeon, they weren't looking at him at all for the very reasonable reason that they were dead

. Jizabel had found himself with the job of distracting the other birds and of course he immediately though 'I know! I'll reanimate dead pigeons and flirt with the men!' Because, you know, he's _normal. _

After Alexis had successfully captured the unsuspecting pigeon he straitened up and called to his son.

"Well done Bella!" He shouted while trying to stuff the bird into a rather small and uncomfortable-looking cage. This of course put 'Bella' in rather a bad mood, he then proceeded to start yelling and waving his arms around and turn a strange colour in the face.

"For the last time dad," Jizabel shouted at his, ever-so-slightly deranged, father "I'm not a girl! I have a stupid enough name for you to call me by but my name isn't Bella. Just because I have long, silvery hair that floats in the wind and glows like moonlight, doesn't mean I'm female…It just means I have incredibly sexy hair," He finished dramatically putting his hands on his hips and posing.

"Yes, yes Bella, come along." Alexis said calmly walking way from the other man who was standing in stunned silence figuring out whether he should slam his palm into his face or not.

He did.

--

Later, back at the manor house that Alexis had somehow managed to acquire despite everyone thinking he was dead, Alexis got Jizabel to follow him to the obligatory creepy dungeon to hang pigeon cages from the ceiling. When they got down there Jizabel realised why his father had been spending a strangely large amount of time out of the house.

There were pigeons _everywhere_.

"I suppose you're wondering what your father is doing with all these pigeons? Well son, you see I have a diabolical plan!" He was looking upwards rather dramatically at this point and looked almost ecstatic that he could share his scheming with someone.

"I would wonder but you've been muttering darkly about it the whole time we were gathering pigeons so I pretty much have the gist of it already."

Alexis looked downtrodden for a moment before hatching an idea. "But that's just a gist right? I mean you don't know all the details. Here, allow me to elaborate." With this he beckoned Jizabel over to a chair that Jizabel swore wasn't there before, and picked up a stick.

"I shall use this amazing technology," he said indicating the stick, " combined with some advanced arm movements, like this, to severely agitate the bird to the point where it goes insane!" Alexis shouted this last word causing Jizabel to flinch back into his seat slightly. "Then I'll set them loose on an unsuspecting London to run riot! They'll peck off children's faces, and eat cats! And… kidnap horses!" He kept going but by this point his ever-so-slightly effeminate son had stopped listening.

"So you're going to poke them with a stick until they get really annoyed?"

"…Yes"

"Father, I'm afraid this goes against my anti-animal cruelty policy, if it where orphaned children from workhouses you would have my support but _pigeons? _You're taking this too far."

"Well, then I suppose I'll have to eat them."

"No!" Jizabel yelled, arms raised. "You don't have to kill them!"

"…No-one said anything about killing them."

In the end they went with the first plan.

--

A few days later Jizabel had just finished his extremely evil daily routine of reading a newspaper in a shop without paying for it and had noted a very panicky sounding front cover. It had read 'All London's pigeons missing!' and had gone on to inform it's audience of the fact that they would all just about fit into an average sized manor house dungeon and explain a theory that they had all gone off to mate which apparently they only do every 100 years which explains why no-one has ever seen a baby pigeon before.

As he was walking back towards the house he heard a voice from behind.

"Hey baby!"

He turned around to see where this annoyance had come from and found himself looking at the same man who had mistaken him for a woman just the other day.

"Oh lord, it's you again," was all the speech he could muster. However he did notice that the man hadn't managed to get a shirt since they had last met, either that or he had lost this one as well, and, as such, he still had the two girls following him and trying to keep him warm.

"Are you sure you're not a woman? You look pretty womanly to me." The man, Crehador, was looking at him curiously.

"I am not a woman!" Jizabel shouted.

"Fine, you're male, no need to get so touchy. We didn't really get a chance to talk properly before. You know my name already; these two lovely ladies are Victoria and Gwendolyn.

The two girls blushed. "Hi," they muttered in unison while giggling and waving rather pathetically.

"That's wonderful." Jizabel replied flatly, tearing his eyes away from Crehador's chest and making a mental note to stop walking down this road at night.

"Hey! I know, why don't we go to the bar together?" He looked up at Jizabel. "We were going to this bar, you know, alcohol, girls, opium… men, if you're into that stuff. Wanna come?"

Jizabel was about to refuse when Crehador spoke again. "Unless you're not man enough of course, unless you're a chicken." With this he took his arms from around Victoria and Gwendolyn's necks and started flapping them like wings while making weird chicken-like noises. Jizabel was extremely disturbed and didn't really want to go. However he was worried that if he refused he might start doing the weird chicken dance and that was the last thing he wanted.

A short walk later and Jizabel found himself in the aforementioned club drinking surrounded by women (and men) and opium fumes. If he was being completely honest he was slightly scared. There were drunken people and thrusting and they all seemed terribly poor as they couldn't afford any clothes. Not only that but he had lost Crehador too and didn't know where the exit was.

Suddenly he felt his blood run cold and a shiver rolled down his spine. This came with the sudden realisation of what he meant to be doing tonight, in all the excitement he had quite forgotten. That, and someone had tipped a bucket of water over his head.

The realisation was fairly important though so he saw fit to rush round looking for the exit sending naked women flying.

"Hey, brother! What are you up to?" Jizabel whirled round, his silver hair waving with the motion, to face his younger half sibling (he wasn't sure if it was _really _a brother or just a sister in disguise)

Jizabel momentarily disregarded his disgust for his 'brother' and didn't get round to questioning why he was at such a bar in the first place.

"Do you know the way out of here?" He asked in an unusually curious and slightly panicky voice.

Cain did and with Riff, who Jizabel hadn't noticed previously, in tow they headed towards the door. Once opened they were about to step out side when they suddenly halted and stared at the dark street.

There were pigeons _everywhere._

--

Sorry this took ages! School ate me and I had to find a side door out of the digestive system as an alternative to actually doing my coursework and being pooped out. That was a really weird analogy.

So yeah, ladies and gentlemen please welcome the plot, I'm not sure how long he'll stay around for, he can be a bit temperamental at times and as always liable to change suddenly.

I don't think this chapter is very good to be honest but hopefully the next one will be better, it should have more Cain which will be good.


End file.
